To melt a heart
by Josephine-Rose Alice
Summary: Hermione is imprisoned in the Malfoy mannor, a hostage. Who can she trust? Will trust turn to love?... only time will tell... During the 6th year of Hogwarts where dark and light become one, from hate love can arise. p.s Please leave a review :
1. Chapter 1

She lay frozen on the cold, hard concrete. She felt his knees tighten their grip on her sides as he moved his mouth to her ear. "There's no one to save you now, Mudblood. By the time your precious little Weaslebee and Potter find this place, you'll be long gone, and I'll be waiting for them," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers up her spine.

"You'll never get away with this," she growled.

When she struggled to free herself, he simply sat, laughing at her vain attempts. "You're not going anywhere, Mudblood, at least not yet," he sneered from atop her back. "Now just be good and it will all be over soon. Who knows? You might even get to meet the authors of those books you cling to so disgustingly hard. Say 'hi' to old Willy Shakespeare for me."

She tried to use his momentary distraction to step-up her struggle, but her actions only earned her a hard jab between her shoulder blades with his elbow.

He leaned forward again, crushing her body closer to the unforgiving floor. His warm breath tickled her neck causing the reappearance of her shivers. "Does he know how he's affecting me?" she wondered. Her mind gave her the answer. "Likely. Do not let it show, though."

She steeled herself as another wave of shudders rushed through her body, this time caused by his one word, "Careful." He slowly raised himself until he was sitting straight up again. "I don't believe the Dark Lord would be too happy with damaged goods, but I have orders to hold you here by all means necessary. Those orders are the only reason I'm touching such a filthy being."

"Is that all I am to you? A good to be transported from place to place?"

"To me? Yes. But obviously the Dark Lord has other plans for you or else I wouldn't be wasting my time with you when I could be helping to kill off Wonder Boy Potter and the Weasel."

"Then why_ are_ you wasting your time when you could put a body-bind curse or the Imperious curse on me and just walk away?"

"You think I will fall for that pathetic mind trick? You think wrong. I know that you would fight off those curses and then I'd pay for my foolishness along side you. So just shut your dirty mouth before I do it for you."

"Is that a threat, Malfoy? I wasn't sure that wimps like you were capable of making those."

"That's enough, Granger!" He pulled her head up by her hair and then bashed it against the floor, knocking her into utter blackness.

The feeling of riding in a stagecoach awoke Hermione from her state of unconsciousness. Her eyes fluttered open just enough to get a glimpse of her current situation. She was being carried by a man wearing a swishing black robe. He was flanked on either side by two other men who were also dressed in black. The men were running towards an old, almost abandoned-looking mansion that was surrounded by an iron fence. She immediately recognized it as Malfoy Manor.

"Parkinson, hurry up with the girl! Can't keep the Dark Lord Waiting, now can we?" sneered a cold voice, much like the one she remembered from just before she was knocked out.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. No, Mr. Malfoy," called out the trembling voice of her holder.

As they passed through the gate, Hermione saw a flash of blue light momentarily cover the archway. The doorway ahead opened to reveal a tall man with graying blonde hair. "Very good, Parkinson," he sneered with an air of authority. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as they approached the magnificent oak doors.

"This way," a female voice called. Hermione was carried in and roughly laid on what she figured to be a fainting couch.

"This is the girl, I presume," an even colder voice said.

"Yessir. Hermione Granger, sir," replied Parkinson, trembling audibly.

"Good."

An unfamiliar voice spoke up, "My Lord, why do you want the girl? She is only a foolish Mudblood."

"Fool! Do you not know who she is?"

"Her name's Hermione Granger, sir. She belongs to the house of Gryffindor and is Muggle-born."

"I'm losing patience with you MacNair. She is Harry Potter's friend, and a very close one, too. She may be able to be persuaded to tell us his plans, and if not, she will serve as very good bait. Her little 'friends' will come rushing to find her and when they do, we can attack."

"A very good plan, my Lord. Well thought out."

"You expect anything less from me?" Voldemort roared.

"No, sir. Of course not, sir. I was simply stating it was a very good plan, sir. Better than anything that I could think of."

"That's because you're a dimwit, MacNair."

"Of course, my Lord. The only one who could rival your intelligence is Dumbledore, my Lord."

"Are you suggesting that I am inferior to Dumbledore?"

"No, my Lord, merely that Dumbledore may be slightly more intelligent than you. After all, he is the headmaster of Hogwarts."

"How dare you!" roared Voldemort. A muttered curse, accompanied by a blinding flash of green light and a thump, and MacNair was dead.

"What shall we do with the girl, my Lord?" said the chilling voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"You may do with her what you please. I suggest taking her to a bed. And, Lucius, make sure she is treated well. We should not give her anymore reasons to despise us."

"Yes, my Lord."

Hermione was lifted and carried away to a room where she was placed gently onto a bed. Exhausted from her long day, she fell asleep immediately.

(hope you like it)


	2. Chapter 2

A soft rap on the door awoke Hermione from her slumber. "Miss," called a high, squeaky voice. "Tituba has breakfast for you."

Groggily, Hermione replied, "Come in."

"Scrambled eggs, ham, orange juice, and milk, miss. Please call Tituba if you need anything. Mistress will be coming within the hour." The house elf placed the tray on the bed and left.

Hermione sat on the bed and stared at her breakfast. Her mind was supplying her with thousands of possible outcomes of eating the food, though her stomach kept growling demanding her to eat. Perhaps there was Veritraserum in her orange juice, or maybe a sleeping draught was mixed into her milk. Poison could have easily been hidden in the scrambled eggs.

Another knock shook Hermione from her stupor. A blonde woman stepped into the room, her stride overflowing with elegance. She was fairly tall, with a good four inches on Hermione's 5'4" height. A soft smile graced her weary face. If Hermione had not guessed who the woman was, she might have thought her to be very likable. But this was clearly Narcissa Malfoy. "Are you not hungry?" Narcissa asked. Unsure of what to say, Hermione just shrugged. Narcissa snapped her fingers and Tituba appeared with a crack.

"Mistress?" squeaked the house elf.

"Miss Granger appears to not have much of an appetite this morning. Take care of her tray."

Tituba grabbed the untouched tray from the bed and disappeared with a crack.

"If you grow hungry, just call and she will bring you anything that you wish to eat," Narcissa said. Her eyes swept over Hermione's form, appraising her. Concerned by this scrutiny, Hermione looked down at her clothes. She was still wearing the dusty blouse and trousers that she had worn the day before. She ran her hands through her tangled hair trying in vain to comb it out. "Well, well. We can't have a guest of the Malfoy House looking like this, now can we?" Narcissa stated more to herself than Hermione. She snapped her fingers again and a different house elf appeared. "Prepare a bath for Miss Granger and then set out a nice outfit and some personal care products," ordered the blonde.

"Yes, Mistress," replied the short, little creature and it quickly scurried away to fulfill its orders.

"Come on, dear. Let's get you cleaned up." Hermione was slightly taken aback by this, but followed Narcissa anyway.

As she walked through the door, Hermione was in awe. Before her eyes was the largest, grandest bathroom she had ever seen: even the prefects' bathroom could not compare. The cathedral ceiling and walls were covered in silver plating; the intricate tile floor was a soft green, much like Slytherin green in pastel form; the silver piping wound around the floating sea green sinks, leading up to the elegant faucets; and delicately carved mirrors hung above the three sinks. That was only part of the magnificent bathroom. The Jacuzzi was enticing, the shower spacious, and the toilet actually looked comfortable. The Slytherin colors were to be expected but Hermione was surprised by the use of them in such soft shades.

"The water should already be in the Jacuzzi and a menu of shampoos and body washes should appear upon command. I'll be back in an hour. I expect you to be cleaned and dressed by then," Narcissa explained, distracting Hermione from her admiring.

Hermione nodded and the lady of the Malfoy house walked off to attend to other matters. Once the blonde had left, Hermione removed her clothes and slipped into the comforting warmth of the foamy water.

Glad to be rid of the dirt and grime that had covered her body, Hermione examined the clothes left for her by the house elf. A dress made of fine cream and black silk, but in a very simple cut, was laid out on the bed. She slid the smooth fabric over her head and turned to face the full-length mirror. The wide straps showed off her shoulders nicely and the square neck fit her perfectly. However, the waist was a bit big for her small figure. After much debate, Hermione opened the huge cherry wardrobe that was on the wall opposite the main door. Her first impression was that the clothes were nicely made, but she was startled when she realized that they were all made for young men. Slightly disturbed, Hermione scanned the wide doors for a belt hanger. She quickly found a group of belts and chose a caramel brown one which she fastened tightly around her waist.

Satisfied with her choice, she began brushing out her messy brown curls. The process was long and tedious, as her naturally tangled curls and waves had become even worse during her recent ordeal that involved Draco Malfoy. Once she had combed out and dried her hair, Hermione inspected herself once more in the mirror. Her ankle-length dress flowed smoothly over her body and her hair now cascaded gently over her shoulders and down her back. In a corner, she found a pair of Mary Janes that were precisely her size. As she slipped them on, a knock came at her door.

"Come in," Hermione called.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room. "My, my. You do clean up well. Come along. You have a meeting with the Dark Lord."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She was going to see Voldemort. Taking deep breaths, Hermione tried to retain a calm composure as she walked through the door into the cold hall and off toward certain doom.


	3. Chapter 3

The gloomy corridors reflected Hermione's mood perfectly: pensive and disheartened. As she followed Lady Malfoy through the confusing maze, Hermione fought her hardest to harness her terror and lock it in an impenetrable room along with all of her secrets about Harry, Ron, the Order, Dumbledore, and her parents. Anything could be vital to Voldemort, so she must not disclose whereabouts or plans of anyone, especially those that were closest to her. He could use them to drive her into unwilling, but necessary submission.

Her own rhythmic footfalls began to calm her. Then Mrs. Malfoy spoke. "Straight through those doors." Her terror rapidly returning, Hermione placed a trembling hand on the golden handles of the doors. Several seconds passed as she worked up the courage to enter. A male voice breezed past her ear. "Go." Oddly calmed, she opened the great maple doors and stepped softly into the room. A group of darkly clothed figures stood around a bone white and forest green throne-like chair. The chair's back was facing the doors from whence she had entered.

"Ah, Miss Granger. How nice of you to join us," reverberated Voldemort's hissing voice. "We were just discussing your… potential."

"I'll never join your little murder club," Hermione spat.

"Oh no, my dear. I would never expect that of you." The emerald chair turned so the occupant was facing her. "I have much greater hopes for you." His red eyes shone with malice as his fingers glided over the intricacies of his dreaded wand.

"I've heard that you are the top in every class, except maybe Potions in which young Draco seems to excel."

Draco stepped out from behind the high-backed chair to stand by his lord's side. His usual smirk was still plastered on his face, though his stiff stance betrayed a hint of uneasiness, or perhaps fear. His eyes darkened at the sight of her. "Mudblood," he sneered.

She jerked her head in response. "Malfoy."

"Draco has offered to brew some potions for me if the need arises. In fact, I believe he already has a truthful little one on the cauldron. Don't you, Draco?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Good boy." His gaze returned to Hermione. I would prefer to do this the easy way, but if not…" There was a pregnant pause. "I expect you to cooperate and answer truthfully. Now that the rules are set, let us begin. Are you really Hermione Jane Granger?"

"Yes," she replied.

"Good. When were you born?"

"September 19, 1979."

"Where do you live?"

"Hogwarts."

Irritation flashed across his face, but he quickly regained control and calmly asked, "No, where is your summer home?"

"25 Pincock Street, Peterborough."

"Thank you. Where are your friends, Harry and Ron?"

"I don't know."

"Really?"

"Yes, I haven't seen Ron since right before the battle, and the last I knew, Harry was with Dumbledore."

"Do you know where Dumbledore took Harry?"

"No, he didn't tell me."

"He must have told you something; perhaps he mentioned a place that was in the memories?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Let's just say that a close friend of yours is not as good at Occulemency as you are." He released a low chuckle, if the chilling sound could even be called that.

"Ron! What have you done to him? Where is he?"

"Dear, dear. I do not know where he is. That is why I'm asking you. And all I did was read his mind while he was passing me. The miserable fool doesn't think of much more than food and Quidditch, but I managed to extract a few useful memories. Now where did Dumbledore take Harry?"

"I told you, I don't know!"

"Yes you do."

Her furious mind began racing even faster. _Where was a likely place for them to go? _"Your old orphanage. Looking for something you may have left behind," she stated matter-of-factly. She hoped he would buy her lie.

"Hmm… You have given me much to think on. You may go… for now."

She let out the breath she had been holding and turned away. He noticed her release of breath. "Stop her! Draco, get the Veritraserum."

She picked up her pace, trying for a full sprint, hoping to get past the maple doors. Two pairs of strong hands clasped her arms, inhibiting her progress. Kicking at her captors, she was led back to stand stiffly in front of the Dark Lord.

"You foolish girl! You thought you could trick me; lie to me! I will have no more of this nonsense! Draco!" The blonde teen handed his lord a small bottle of clear liquid. Voldemort's skeletal fingers uncorked the bottle as their owner stood, towering above her petite figure. "Open your mouth." She disobeyed. "I said open your mouth!" Still, she refused. "OPEN IT!" She kept her lips tightly sealed. His wand appeared and with a small wave, magic held open her protesting mouth. The bottle tipped slightly, getting closer to releasing its contents every second. She thrashed about wildly, attempting to free herself. Closer. Closer. Completely horizontal. Tipped just a tiny degree more. And drip. Drip. Drip. Three drops of the potion fell into her mouth. Drop. Drop. Two more. The contents of the bottle descended into her mouth and unwillingly she swallowed.

"Now, I'll ask you again. Where did Dumbledore take Harry?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Now, I'll ask you again. Where did Dumbledore take Harry?"

"To a lake. He said something about Horcrux hunting." Despite her efforts to resist, the Veritraserum forced the information out of her mouth.

"Interesting. Anything else?"

"N-the lake was related to your younger days in the orphanage. Grrr."

"Ah… I know exactly where that lake is."

"Of course you do. You're the one who hid the Horcrux there," she spat.

"True, true. The question is 'Did they find it?'"

"I don't know that."

"I was quite sure of that. Shut up, insolent girl. I need to think."

More than gladly, she did as she was ordered. She watched warily as he contemplated the new information. "That will be all for today. Go back to your quarters."

Hermione turned to leave but then she realized that she did not know how to get back to the room she was staying in. "Ummm… Sir? I'm not quite sure how to get to my room," she said timidly.

"Naricissa, show Miss Granger to her room immediately," he ordered. "Oh, and give her a map of your manor. We don't need her becoming lost, now do we?"

"Of course, my lord. No, my lord."

Hermione and Narcissa once again hurried through the ever winding hallways. opened a door, revealing Hermione's living quarters and said, "I will have a house elf bring you a map so that you can acquaint yourself with the manor. I suggest restricting your wanderings to certain designated areas that will be marked on the map. We wouldn't want you knowing more than you need to, would we?"

"No ma'am," Hermione replied, and she closed the door gently. 

Hermione wandered the dimly lit halls of Malfoy Manor, examining many rooms along her way. Her favorite had been the grand library which was even larger then the one Hogwarts housed. The huge room was divided into three different sections - one for fiction, one filled with historical and scientific references along with books on magic, and one area that she assumed was filled with books of dark magic - with some areas partitioned into small sitting rooms. Many cherry bookshelves contained many more books than a Muggle shelf would have held. Hermione was surprised to find that several Muggle novels lined the shelves. Comfortable chairs and couches were squeezed into every square meter that was not needed to house books or provide space to walk. This was heaven for a book lover.

Another particularly fascinating room was the ballroom. The great hard-wooded room was almost as large as the library. The swirling white walls and colossal windows added even more space to the open room, and filled it with beautiful sunlight. She could easily imagine grandly dressed men and women of wealth and power gliding across the polished floor while a wonderful orchestra played a marvelous waltz. Across the room she could see a door slightly propped open, revealing what appeared to be a dance studio, complete with mirrored walls and a barre (for those of you who do not know what this is, it is the bar that ballerinas use to steady themselves while practicing, and no, this is not a dancing fic though there may end up being a bit of dancing in it farther along).

After more wandering, Hermione began to tire and returned to her room. She open the door to find a male with his back to her, removing his shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

"Doesn't anybody know how to knock any more," he said angrily, spinning around. She nearly gasped at the sight of his pale, toned torso. His abs looked as if they had been delicately chiseled out of marble.

"Umm…I'll leave."

"Damn right you will. Don't you know how to respect other's privacy?"

"For your information, I believe that this room is where I have been staying for the last two days." His remark had caused her temper to flare up.

"Mother. I have to have a talk with that woman right now!" He stormed off, with an air of annoyance, but somehow he stilled manage to pull of the "cool" look he always had.

Left alone, Hermione decided to wait quietly on the bed until the situation had been sorted out.

Arguing voices grew louder as they neared the doorway. "But Mother, she's… she's… filthy! How could you allow her to stay in _my_ bedroom?"

"She is our guest, and besides it was only for one night." Narcissa's voice sounded strained yet patient.

"Our guest, my arse! More like prisoner. Why isn't she in the dungeons or perhaps in the house elves quarters? That would be more fitting."

"The Dark Lord has requested that we treat her kindly, and we shall do as he requests. Would you prefer to be his next 'experiment'?"

"Not at all, but why _my_ room?"

"Why not your room? We want her to feel welcomed, don't we?"

Draco muttered something under his breath.

"Draco! Don't say such things! I do not know what your father has taught you, but I will not tolerate such language in my house." At this point the door burst open, revealing a scolding Narcissa Malfoy and a belittled Draco Malfoy. "For that _you_ will be the one sleeping in the house elves' quarters!"

"Mother!" Draco was outraged.

"Get changed and head down there now! I will know if you don't," Narcissa warned. Her voice suddenly softened and she said, "Miss Granger, let us take a short walk while my sorry-excuse-for-a-son finishes up."

The pair exited the room, leaving Draco to change sulkily. "I'm truly sorry about Draco's behavior; Merlin knows I raised him to act better than that. You are welcome to stay in Draco's room for as long as you would like, or, if you prefer, I can arrange for another room to be readied for you,"

"I don't want to impose upon your hospitality, but I feel that I would be more comfortable in a different room if that is convenient."

"Not a problem at all, dear. I'll set the house elves on it right away."

"Don't trouble them. I can move my own belongings."

"Are you sure? It's no trouble." Hermione nodded. "Well then, let us go see if Draco has left yet so that we may gather your belongings."

The two turned and walked back to Draco's room. When Narcissa's demanding knock received no answer, Hermione entered the room and quickly gathered her meager belongings. Then she followed Lady Malfoy to the door of her new room.

Meanwhile, in the house elves' quarters, Draco Malfoy was grumbling about traitor mothers and over-exuberant house elves. A few blankets and towels were laid down as a make-shift bed. As he tossed and turned, Draco couldn't help but feel slightly regretful of his earlier actions, if only because he would have had a luxurious bed to sleep upon after a hard mission. When he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with red eyes, dying screams, and eerily cold voices.

****************************************************************************************

Lady Malfoy stormed through the halls of Malfoy Manor in search of her husband. When she entered his study, she began to scream at her husband who was lounging in his chair. "You …you … you … traitor! I thought we agreed that Draco mustn't grow up to be like you."

Unaffected by his wife's tantrum, Lucius Malfoy replied coolly, "I believe we did agree on that."

"Then why is he disrespecting our visitor by calling her dirty-blooded? _ I _certainly did not teach him that."

"My dear, I believe that there has been a misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding? How is it possible to misunderstand that I want my son to live a good life?"

"No dear, I believe the misunderstanding has been on your part. You see, I want my son to be _greater_ than me. I am only a mere servant following my lord's orders. I wish Draco to be the one _giving_ the orders."

Narcissa's eyes flashed with anger. "So you've been teaching him to follow the Dark Lord's ways?"

"No, my dear," Master Malfoy responded gently, as if conversing with a small child. "I am teaching him the way to become more powerful than the Dark Lord. I believe that soon His Darkness will be overtaken by the Potter boy, so I am preparing the way for Draco to take his place and continue his work on an even higher scale - destroying all muggle-borns and muggles."

The woman gaped at her husband for a few seconds before regaining her wits and releasing a frustrated scream. Unable to form a sentence that expressed her hatred and disgust, Narcissa huffed as she exited the room, long blonde hair slashing behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

_She walked through a crowded street, examining unmemorable window fronts. A man sauntered along beside her, his arm around her waist. The man was eerily familiar yet she could not tell who he was. Suddenly, a display caught her eye, and she moved to get a better look and found a beautiful bird in a simple cage. The bird's feathers reminded her of a muggle caramel latte and its deep brown eyes shown bright with intelligence. When the bird ruffled its feathers, she noticed that the door to the cage was open. It could easily fly out and be free, but instead it chose to stay and dazzle visitors of the small shop._

Hermione awoke from her dream quite calm and content (as most good dreams leave you), but puzzled by the Happily-Caged Bird. What animal wouldn't take the chance to be free of restraints? The only ones that she could think of were some dogs. This was a riddle that she was determined to solve. But the solving would have to wait until it wasn't 2 o'clock in the morning.

Down in the house-elves' quarters, Draco was also dreaming.

_He, too, was walking through a crowded street with an unknown woman at his side. They paused to examine a store window in which a magnificent macaw was struggling to break free of its weak cage. A loud sound startled him as a streak of white light flew toward the cage. Draco watched in awe as the spell destroyed the bars and skimmed the tip of the bird's wing, causing it to shriek in pain. The bird was free, yet it looked unsure about leaving its well-known habitat. From his side, he heard the woman calling softly to the macaw, urging it to leave the comfortable numbness of its cage. As the beautiful bird tried out his wings, Draco awoke._

The shuffle of house-elves had pulled him from the fantasy. He groaned and ran a pale hand through his hair. A glance at his silver watch showed the time to be five in the morning. Knowing that he'd be in for hell if he slithered to his room before his mother came for him, Draco laid down his head in hopes of falling back to sleep.

Once again, breakfast was brought by a house-elf. As Hermione contemplated the meal, her stomach clenched from lack of food, and she realized that she would have to eat soon or else she would pass out. Hesitantly, she lifted the fork with a piece of sausage to her lips. Before she could take a proper bite, there was a knock at her door. Expecting Mistress Malfoy, she called, "Come in." The door was pushed open with great force to reveal none other than her enemy's form. "What are _you_ doing here? Come to make fun of my blood again?"

"No, Mudblood." The second word was a whisper. "My mother has asked me to apologize," he spat.

"Get on with it, then."

"I'm… I'm… sorry for calling you that inappropriate name and being inhospitable. It reflected poorly on my family and I hope you do not hold them accountable for my mistakes." His voice was purely formal and there was not a hint of remorse in his statement.

"Um… thank you," she stuttered. Feeling awkward, she said, "Would you like to join me for breakfast?"

His cold gray eyes looked surprised, but the set of his mouth was irritated. "Why would I do that?" he responded with venom, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard.


	7. Chapter 7

An insistent pecking yanked her from the world of Pride and Prejudice. A midnight black owl hovered at her window. She stood and unlatched the window, pushing one pane open to allow the bird to perch on her bedpost and drop an emerald green envelope on her bed. She lifted the envelope and cautiously opened it. Inside was a short note:

Your presence is requested in the drawing room in half an hour.

~Lucius Malfoy

Senior Member of the Death Eater League

Lord of Malfoy Manor 

*********************************************************************************

Thirty minutes later, she was briskly walking through the dim corridors towards the drawing room. Butterflies – no, moths- fluttered in her stomach ominously. Her intuition was sending her dire warnings, but she pressed forward, knowing that her punishment for not coming would be worse than any possible torture that waited in the drawing room.

"It's wonderful for you to join us this afternoon. I trust that you are finding your accommodations to your liking," the cold voice of Lord Voldemort drawled. She nodded mutely. "Good, good." A tense pause permeated the room.

Still standing, Hermione watched warily as the Dark Lord conferred with his closest followers for several minutes. "Oh, how rude of me! Please, sit down, Miss Granger." His snow-white, bony finger pointed toward a delicately patterned sofa. Reluctantly, Hermione obeyed. The group returned to their discussion as she examined the tiny design. Mint green swirls intermingled with darker, emerald ones on a background of antique white. Upon closer inspection, she shuddered – the swirls were replicas of the Dark Mark.

"Ahem. Miss Granger, I presume that I would be correct in assuming that you are wondering why I have summoned you. Am I right?" His voice rang eerily throughout the small room.

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Indeed."

"Well, I've taken your little hint to mind and have decided to check on the validity of it."

"Yeah, right," she spat as quietly as possible.

A flash of anger rose to his countenance, and he looked about to pounce on her, but he quickly schooled his features, pretending to be oblivious to her comment. "You, my dear, will be accompanying me on my journey in two days time."

Hermione tried to prevent her surprise and terror from showing as his demand registered. Her attempts must have been futile, for a sound, vaguely like a laugh, emitted from the imposing robe figure before her. Soon enough, all his cronies were laughing along to her distress. "Dear girl, there is no need to fear. What good would it do if you were to die? None. Nothing worth fretting over then.

"I will send for you again when I am fully prepared. You are dismissed."

Her rigid body unfroze after a second, and she hastily removed herself from the room, careful relief flooding her mind.

She tensed again as she heard another set of footsteps echo hers. She stopped and turned abruptly, causing the unknown person behind her to knock her unto her back. Cries of pain escaped the mouths of the two victims of the fall. "Sorry," she said automatically, before turning to look at the person who was encaging her in his arms. Tousled platinum blonde hair partially hid a pair of piercing, storm cloud eyes. His signature smirk twitched a little under her scrutiny. "Oh," she exclaimed. Then, in a harsher, mocking tone, she said, "Never mind. I'm not at all sorry. Now would you kindly let me free?"

He stared down at her for a few seconds, as if debating how she would react to his answer. "What if I don't? What could you do? In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one with a wand here."

She blanched slightly at this realization. He could easily overpower her physically, as he had proved at their meeting in the dungeons of Hogwarts, and without her wand, her abilities were useless. She played the only card she knew. "Your master and your mother wouldn't be very happy if they found out about this."

He sneered. "The Dark Lord would hardly care as long as you could still speak, and my mother…" He faltered here. "My mother can go to hell if she tries to stop me."

Something in his voice made her realize that he was only bluffing on the last part. She smirked slightly and watched his face fall as he grasped that she had caught his lie. An awkward silence followed while the two internally debated over their predicament. Finally, Draco took the lead. He leaned closer toward her, crushing her slightly with his body, and then stood up and walked away, leaving her lying, flabbergasted on the floor. "See you around, Mudblood," he jeered.


	8. Chapter 8

A loud knock as her introduction, Narcissa Malfoy strode into Hermione's room, her eyes steeled with purpose but gentle with caring. "Hermione," she called.

A little apprehensively, Hermione looked up from her chair in a secluded corner. Seeing only the back of the mistress of the Malfoy household, she stood and turned the lady's attention by responding, "Over here, Mrs. Malfoy."

The blonde spun around at the sound of her voice. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Narcissa?" she said in a gentle, but reprimanding voice.

"Sorry, Narcissa. I'm not used to being on a first-name basis yet."

"That's okay, dear, but in the future do try to remember. Mrs. Malfoy is much too formal for a guest to use. But that's not why I came here. I'm hosting a ladies' luncheon tomorrow, and I was hoping that you would do me the honor of joining us." Noticing the worried look on the young woman's face, she added, "Trust me, dear, we are much more refined than the men. You have no need to worry."

Still a bit uncertain, Hermione obliged. She watched the surprisingly kind lady exit the library before returning to her book on defensive spells and potions.

The next morning, a house-elf appeared to escort her to Lady Malfoy's room. Hermione followed obediently, wondering why the woman had ordered her presence. When she entered the elegant room, she was greatly surprised by the sky blue walls and light bamboo flooring. The room was decidedly un-Slytherin-like. In fact, the only green was a set of potted flowers sitting on the open window sill.

"Good morning, dear," Narcissa exclaimed as she glided around a corner, into sight. Hermione noticed off-handedly that her eyes were the same color as the walls and the brilliant sky that peeked through the window. Those same eyes quickly scanned Hermione's figure, and the older woman's mouth moved rapidly as she murmured to herself. "You can have a seat anywhere. I'll be back in just a moment." She disappeared from whence she had come.

Hermione indulgently took a seat on the cream cushioned window seat. She pushed aside the dancing curtains and peered out at the lush landscape beneath her. Rolling green hills were intercepted by a pine forest on her left, while the edges of a large lake lapped at the sandy shore to her right. Far in the distance, she thought she spied a boatman sailing the lake, and closer to her, she watched fish jump from the water in an acrobatic show. Her eyes wandered to a lone figure walking the grounds. She could distinctly see his light blonde hair shine in the sunlight. She prayed that he wouldn't notice her as he turned to face the stone mansion. A smile crossed his face as he examined some unknown thing beneath her. Narcissa's return stirred her from her appreciation.

The lovely blonde glanced out the window and smiled softly before laughing, "He's out there again, isn't he? Draco seems to spend all his free time tending those flowers lately. I've told him repeatedly that the house-elves wouldn't mind taking care of them, but he insists on caring for them himself, silly boy. But that is all he has left of his grandmother." Turning back to Hermione, she explained, "His grandmother on Lucius' side passed away nearly a year ago. She was a very nice lady; I never figured out how she could have had a son like Lucius. She always doted on Draco, him being her only grandson, and he loved her more than anything. He was devastated when she passed. Every year, she planted a small flower garden under this window. Now he insists on keeping the tradition going himself, in memory of her."

Hermione was overwhelmed by this new information. "So the ferret has a heart," she thought. "Who knew?"

"Any way, here is a few of my old dresses for you to try," Lady Malfoy said, pointing to a large pile of lace, frills, and smocking of a grand variety of colors. The stately woman was adamant that Hermione try on every dress. The pair found themselves laughing together at some of the more ridiculous ones. Hermione finally settled on white, knee-length sundress with delicately stitched flowers and vines trimming the pale pink empire-style sash. The thin straps and straight neckline paired with a chain of dainty pink diamond roses brought the attention to her lightly powdered face. Narcissa managed to coax her hair into an elegant bun, leaving out a few strands to frame her face gently. The lady of Malfoy Manor also looked beautiful in her robin's egg blue dress which brought out her sparkling eyes. The cut was slimming and stylish with a V-neck and an A-line skirt.

Both women stepped into high heels and turned to the large mirror. Hermione gasped at her reflection, while Narcissa simply smiled in delight and anticipation. Forgoing all reluctance and formality, Hermione hugged the older woman, expressing her thanks repeatedly. "Not a problem, dear. You have to look respectable for this afternoon, and I enjoyed our time together," she replied with a grin.

Turning toward the clock, she let out a startled sound. "Oh dear. They'll be here any minute now. We better go down to the foyer." Hastily, she pulled an astonished Hermione down five flights of stairs and through several hallways, ending, winded, in a large entrance room just as the door bell called out a haunting ring. Pausing for a second, Lady Malfoy looked over herself and her companion. Satisfied, she opened the grand, cherry door.

Hermione was taken aback by the appearance of the woman at the door. The dark haired lady was barely five foot tall and fairly plump. Her smile was soft, and her eyes shined with excitement as she stepped into the manor. Mrs. Malfoy bent down, while the little woman stood on her toes, to give her guest a kiss on the cheek. "Mrs. Parkinson, this is Hermione Granger," the taller woman said in introduction. At the wondering look on Mrs. Parkinson's face, she added, "The young woman who is staying with us as a favor to the Dark Lord."

Hermione didn't fail to notice the way that Lady Malfoy had omitted the little fact that she was there against her will, but she was surprised to hear the hint of disgust in the older woman's voice as she referred to the most feared wizard in the world. Politely, she lightly grasped the proffered hand before her and greeted, "Nice to meet you."

"Oh! Isn't she a darling! Pureblood, I'm sure, with those manners. Even my little Pansy couldn't hold a candle to her!" the raven-haired woman gushed.

Awkwardly, Narcissa leaned down to whisper to the guest. "Oh! My mistake!" Turning back to Hermione, she exclaimed, "I'm sorry, dear. I do hope I didn't offend you. I believe that I see Mrs. Zambini coming up the way, so I'll allow you ladies to do your duty." With that, Mrs. Parkinson scampered off, as a beautiful dark-skinned woman approached the door.

"Mrs. Zambini, How good to see you again! This is Hermione Granger." And so the introductions went on. By the time all the guests had arrived, Hermione felt as if she had just met half of London's population. As the ladies around her engaged in conversations, she stood off to the side, alone. Mrs. Malfoy, sensing her discomfort, quietly suggested that she oversee the house-elves in setting up the dining room. Hermione readily agreed, having given up S.P.E.W. within her few days at Malfoy Manor.

Draco silently watched the bushy-haired teenage girl direct his family's servants in the preparation of the sunny dining room. He found himself smiling in appreciation of her conduct and talents. "She'd make a good wife," he thought. Catching himself, he added, "At least when it comes to preparing for social events." He was disgusted with his train of thought as he soundlessly slipped away.

The prim and proper (or so they seemed at first glance) ladies entered the sunlit dining room, exclaiming over the gorgeous place settings and the intricacies of the lace tablecloth. Hermione shyly beamed with satisfaction as the women admired her work. Narcissa's voice rang out clear and strong, asking everyone to be seated and the house-elves to bring out the food. Lamb chops, little sandwiches, and shrimp kabobs were brought out, followed by fruit and vegetable trays. For dessert, there was a variety of chocolate-covered goodies, angel food cake, and mini cheesecakes, accompanied by cookies of all kinds. Hermione barely stifled a laugh when Mrs. Parkinson dug into the desserts before she had eaten anything else.

The women chatted animatedly throughout the meal, effortlessly including Hermione as often as possible. Quickly, Hermione found herself enjoying the gathering, surprised at how sociable and kind most of the women were, despite being Death Eaters or at least the wives of Death Eaters. She had to admit that she was disappointed when they left. Feigning tiredness, Hermione retired to her room to think over her newfound friendships.


	9. Chapter 9

The stars twinkled high above the rugged outcropping the small exploration group was perched on. She briefly wondered if Harry's mission had been successful and privately wished it had. A terrified scream broke through the cold stillness of the night. She jerked her gaze toward the source, and she nearly laughed aloud at the sight of one of the Death Eaters dangling upside down above the churning water. Her amusement was short lived as she found herself yanked upward by her feet. Now, she, too, was suspended unnervingly in the biting air. A pull from her gut sent her zipping over the lake. The jagged crags of the sheer cliff before her zoomed into view, too close for comfort. "I'm going to die. I'm going to die by being smacked into a cliff. I'm going to die and never be found. I'm going to die!" ran through her head as the cliff face grew closer and closer. "Any moment now," she thought. "Any moment. Goodbye world. Take care Harry, Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Mr. Weasley, Luna, Neville, Mum, Dad, Grandmum, Aunt Eliza…" She finished her list and looked around her, surprised that death had been so painless, and, come to think of it, heaven looked pretty dark and depressing with the cold, slimy stone walls that surround her and the flickering torches that seemed to barely burn in the damp atmosphere, giving off utilitarian amounts of light that cast creeping shadows in all the recesses.

An eerie voice sent a tremor through her body. "Follow me, and _don't_ get yourselves killed unnecessarily; I may need you later." She spun around, searching for the source of the familiar voice. A bone white face lacking a proper nose and red slits for eyes appeared to be the one talking. Confused, she blindly matched her steps to his, spreading her arms wide to keep her balance on the small ledge.

"Bring me the girl," the ghost-like being ordered. Roughly, she was pushed to the front of the group. He grabbed her wrist, exposing her beating veins and pale flesh. A glinting dagger was brought forth, and she loosed a startled cry of pain as he slashed her inner forearm with the instrument. The pain awoke her from her trance-like state and realization hit her. The man who grasped her arm tightly was Lord Voldemort, and she was not dead after all. She struggled vainly, stopping only when a voice behind her spat, "Quit it, girl. You'll only hurt yourself more." She was jerked through a doorway that she was sure wasn't there a few moments before, and then abruptly released. Being pushed along by the large men accompanying them, she stumbled often and was brutally righted. She nearly fell onto the Dark Lord when he stopped, but was caught by the collar of her shirt and pulled back, choking.

"I leave you here. Miss Granger, if you would join me." He gestured to a small dinghy waiting at the shore of the fluorescent green inlet. She was lifted high by a pair of large hands and placed in the craft.

The boat moved soundlessly across the water and came to rest on a small island of sorts. Warily, she stepped out onto the rugged terrain. "Hurry up," the Dark Lord ordered coldly. "Drink." He handed her a glass goblet filled with a foreign liquid. In the dim and eerie light, she would have sworn that the snake handles slithered under her sweaty grip. "I said 'drink!'" The rage in his eyes scared her into submission. The liquid burned her throat as she gulped it down. He tore the cup from her hands, refilled it, and forced her to swallow its contents. This repeated over and over. For how long, she didn't know. She was only aware of her burning thirst. When the cup did not come, she collapsed onto the sharp, rocky ground, convulsing in her frantic search for water. Her disabled mind barely registered his screech of outrage. Her world went black as excruciating pain washed over her.


	10. Chapter 10

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness from her vision. She could see a pale arm that was stretched to reach toward her forehead where something cool rested gently. A concerned face peered down at her. She only caught the fringe of the light blonde hair before she closed her eyes, hoping to fool her caretaker into believing that she was still asleep. "I saw that, Granger."

"Drat," she thought. She warily opened first one eye and then the other. A pair of icy blue-grey eyes met hers, daring her to defy him. She groaned as she put two and two together, realizing her fate. "Great. Just what I need: Malfoy to mess me up even more," she thought sarcastically.

Her headache increased dramatically as she struggled to raise herself unto her forearms. "Hold up there, Granger." He gently, but forcefully, lowered her head back unto the down pillow behind her. "I thought a genius like you would know better than to move unassisted right after waking up from a bad injury."

"Harry was the one who was always in the hospital wing, not me," she replied in a slightly self-depreciating voice. She often blamed herself for many of Harry's various injuries. She may have been the brightest witch of her age, but she had rarely been able to ease or prevent his pain.

"Well, here's rule number one: Always listen to and obey your caretaker: Me."

She resisted the urge to laugh aloud at the way he turned his thumbs in to point to himself and his matter-of-fact voice. Instead, she scoffed, "Like I would ever answer to you, Malfoy."

"You will, at least until you won't crumple to the ground after less than ten steps."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. She had not realized that her condition was that degraded.

"Yeah. Rule number two: Drink plenty of fluids." He pushed a cup of water into her hand, and lifted her into a seated position with ease. She took in her surroundings as she drank steadily. White walls and floors alienated the room but little touches of color, such as the vase of fresh flowers by her bedside, brought life to it. The room distinctly reminded her of the hospital wing in Hogwarts, only this room was much smaller and only made to accommodate two people.

Her stomach rumbled, startling the two teens who were gazing off into space pensively. The blonde-haired boy abruptly turned around and reappeared with a platter of crackers and apple slices. Greedily, she shoved the proffered food into her mouth. "Slow down, Granger. It's not going to disappear." He grabbed her wrist as her hand snuck out to grab another morsel. "Chew and swallow. You're going to choke yourself if you keep that up."

She indignantly swallowed her mouthful and shot back, "I'm _not_ a little kid. I _know_ how to eat."

"Then why are you acting like I just told you that all the food in the world would disappear tomorrow?"

"I am not. If all the food were to disappear, I would horde it all together, and then redistribute it among the needy children."

"Sure you would, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes."

"Would too!"

The two teens entered into a tense staring contest, locking eyes, and neither allowing the contact to break. Suddenly, the two were doubled over in laughter.

"Ow! My side!" Hermione exclaimed as her exertions took their toll.

His concerned eyes met hers, but before either could do anything more, they resumed giggling.

"Wow," she thought. "Dra-Malfoy has a sense of humor. He seems almost human when he laughs. No, he is human, when he laughs he just becomes more likeable. I can't believe I just thought that: Malfoy? Likeable? I must have hit my head hard."

But she couldn't help appreciating his bright laugh and personable ways. He was gentle as he nursed her, even when their voices turned cold and they argued until he had to step out of the room to cool down. Hermione was surprised to find that she sort of looked forward to waking up to see him by her bedside waiting with breakfast.

She was recovering slowly, much slower than she had hoped. Narcissa had come to visit soon after she awoke and explained what had happened at the lake. Voldemort had become enraged when he discovered that the horcrux was missing, and he crucioed her repeatedly. Luckily, he eventually remembered his purpose for her and gave her the antidote to counteract the poison in the basin. She was hurriedly transferred back to Malfoy Manor and placed under Draco's care. The combination of the poison and the spell had brought her to the brink of death. The double-whammy also slowed her recovery in unexpected ways, although within the month, she was able to walk a short ways with Draco hovering nearby to catch her if she so much as wobbled.

After a fight with her caretaker, Hermione decided to show her rebellious side. As he journeyed to his quarters to take a shower and prepare for the night, Hermione crept slowly and carefully out of her sickbed. Shakily, she hobbled over to the door. Her pale, frail hand turned the doorknob as hope and rebellion swelled within her. She was slightly surprised to find it unlocked, but thankful that she would not have to waste energy reaching to get the key from above the door. She closed the door as quietly as possible and began the long and tedious trek to her room.

She was almost there. "A little farther, just a little farther," she told herself repeatedly as she crawled up the final staircase. Exhausted, she laid down at the top of the stairs. "Just a quick rest. I'll just…just…" Sighing, she gave up her struggle, closed her eyes, and allowed her weak body to collapse completely, sending her back into darkness.

"Hermione. Hermione! Where are you? HERMIONE!" Voices called her name and still she didn't stir.

"Oh no! Hermione!" his worried voice sounded as he found her limp form lying on the stair case. "I found her!" he called to the other searchers, trying his best to sound nonchalant. He didn't need the whole manor to hear his anxiety at seeing her unconscious, again.

He flashed back to the night in the Slytherins corridors, commonly known as the dungeons. That night at least she had fought. Now he saw her broken, haven given up in her struggle. Instead of the hate that had overtaken him that night, all he could feel was concern and worry tonight. He had only been acting under the Dark Lord's orders. As the Death Eaters stormed the castle, he was charged with making sure that no one escaped through the multiple passages down in those cold, dark halls. Unfortunately for her, she was ever the valiant and intelligent one. She had searched him out when she noticed his absence from the fray above. He had been wary of her pondering gaze all year. He was sure that she knew of his plot, his piece in the inevitable battle to come, as her eyes raked over him. She had been the one to discover him. She had been the one to fight him. She had been alone. She hadn't had a chance against his strength and speed. He had disarmed her and cornered her. Even then she had not given up Harry's quest nor any other information about her friends and allies. He had beaten her down, the defenseless thing she was. He had trapped her, called on his own allies, and she had struggled. He'd had no mercy for her. A part of him had even enjoyed this revenge on her. In the end, he had actually given her a small mercy: unconsciousness.

As he lifted her carefully, he marveled at how he could have been so horrible to such a defenseless, spirited girl. She had been weak, even then. The stress of school and her work against the Dark Lord's rise had zapped her of much of her strength and vitality. The night of the battle, she had looked wraith-like and ghostly in the dim corridors, much as she looked now. But there was a fire in her eyes then. He had not seen that fire since she had been imprisoned here. Her spirit was crushed. In that moment, he determined that he would bring that fire and spirit back to her.

He entered his room, carrying her lifeless form. Gently, he laid her on his bed and pulled a chair over to wait for her to reawaken.


	11. Chapter 11

As she pulled herself from sleep, it was the aroma that she noticed first: warm, outdoorsy, and surprisingly, familiar. It was a comforting smell; a mix of cloves, vanilla, and something that brought to mind open fields after a thunderstorm. Without opening her eyes, she attempted to find the source, but she soon realized that the fragrance permeated the whole room nearly equally. Groaning, she pried her eyelids open. The room, too, was familiar, though it took her a moment to realize why. She was lying in Draco Malfoy's room. "This cannot be good," she thought. A whisper in her mind wanted to protest, but she threw it off as ridiculous nonsense brought on by her concussion.

A door swung open and footsteps filled the silence. "I see you've awoken from your hundred-year sleep, Sleeping Beauty."

Hermione chuckled lightly. "It seems that is true." She paused, "How do you know about Sleeping Beauty?"

His grinning face appeared before her as he sat down beside the bed. "Aunt 'Dromeda used to tell me muggle fairytales when I would visit as a child. Nymphadora would laugh when I would ask about the many princesses from her old books."

"I thought that Andromeda was disowned when she married Ted."

"She was, but my mother still visited her often, despite her family's protests. Also, she was a convenient babysitter. My mother doesn't believe in house-elves looking after children."

"Ah. So the Slytherin Prince is really a muggle-lover." There was a quiet challenge in her eyes accompanying the strong mischievous glint.

He feigned terror. "Don't tell my father!" he squeaked. A laugh rumbled through his chest as her own chiming laughter rang out.

"I won't. I pinkie-promise." She held out her smallest finger as he hesitantly reached out with his. Their fingers joined, and the pair grinned like little children. They laughed loudly at their jest.

When the fit subsided, Draco gazed at her, seeming puzzled. "What?" she laughed.

"How would you like to get some fresh air; maybe, walk around the grounds a little?" he asked nonchalantly.

Searching his eyes for treachery, she replied, "That's sounds won…good." Her dark curls bounced slightly as she nodded her head.

"Good. You get dressed, and then I'll accompany you on the excursion."

Hermione prepared to slide out of the comfortable bed, but stopped short as she realized what she was doing. She was wearing an oversized shirt that she figured was the closest thing to a T-shirt that the Malfoy's owned. Despite its size, the hem only came halfway down her thigh. Blushing, she demanded that he leave.

"Why?" he asked, acting innocent though she was sure he knew what she was wearing.

"You're such a perv! Now leave!" she screamed at him. Draco chuckled heartily, but left anyways. She hissed at his cheeky grin and wink.

A few minutes later, she had changed into a pair of moss green short shorts (She was sure that Draco had picked those out.) and a comfortable white tank top. Draco knocked once and entered to find her examining herself in the mirror. He quietly observed her from a discreet distance. Fading bruises covered her arms and legs. A white scar could be seen on her forearm from where the knife had drawn her blood. Her brunette curls were as unmanageable as ever, but she had managed to contain most of them in a low ponytail. Her once-bright eyes were still haunted, something that he noted with contempt. Even when her laugh filled the room, the empty, scared look never left those golden-brown orbs. She was still fragile, but her posture portrayed her resolve and strength.

She frowned at her reflection, pulling at the shorts and a loose curl. Softly, he spoke. "You… you look fine. No, more than fine. You're beautiful." He whispered the last word to himself.

She spun around, a hint of anger in her eyes. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," he offered. "Perhaps a minute or two. That's all."

She breathed a sigh of relief. She turned away briefly, but he still noticed her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. "So Granger's been crying. I wonder why," he thought to himself. He knew that she would never accept his pity, though, so he did not ask. "Come on, Granger. Let's head out," he said instead.

He held open the wooden door for her and she slowly exited. At the end of the corridor, she paused at the top of the staircase. "What's the hold up, Granger?" he asked, annoyance tinting his voice at the sudden stop. She stared desolately at the descending steps. Coming to her side, he marked the concern in her honey eyes. "Oh." He knew that she wouldn't allow him to carry her the whole way down. Even in her current state, she had too much pride for that. Instead he lifted her arm around his shoulders, and carefully they made their way down to the sunroom in the back of the house.

He threw open the white French doors. She gasped. He repressed the urge to chuckle at her reaction. Beyond the doors, the green slopes rolled gently toward a majestic pine forest. Flower gardens flourished on either side of the cobblestone pathway that wound through the grounds and eventually reached the shining blue lake far to her right. Hermione believed that she had never seen anything more beautiful, besides her first glimpse of Hogwarts from the small boats in their first year. Standing there, she could almost forget that she was a captive in a house full of Death Eaters. He nudged her shoulder, and she began dreamily walking the path. He pointed out the large maze of hedges and flowering vines that made up the traditional Labyrinth. She marveled at the variety of plants that grew in the year-round greenhouses. He drew her attention to a field of wildflowers that had been allowed to run wild. She savored the sweet berries they picked from the tangle of raspberry and blackberry bushes.

Finally, they arrived at his favorite piece of the intricate web that was the Malfoy gardens, his grandmother's flower garden. It was a simple thing with only some daises, a few dahlias, a rose bush, and many small, colorful flowers. Draco bent down to pull a few weeds with his bare hands. She noticed that those hands did not quite fit with the rest of his aristocratic appearance. His hands were long and slender, but they had a light brown stain from working in the dirt. They also had a few calluses that had begun to form, she suspected, from working with garden tools such as trowels. A soft smile graced his face as he worked, his blonde hair adding to the angelic image.

She sat down and fingered a delicate blue blossom. Her thoughts wandered to summers spent chasing gnomes and watching Quidditch games at the Burrow. The little blue flower was the color of the clear sky that greeted them most mornings. Sighing, she remembered those carefree days spent with Harry, Ron, and Ginny; their laughter permeating the warm air. She missed Harry's bright green eyes and reckless courage. She missed Ginny rambling on about the latest fashions. She even missed Ron's ignorance and hilarity. Her parents' brown eyes and warm, caring smiles flooded her vision, and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Granger…Granger… Hermione!"

A completely different set of eyes met her startled pair. The storm that usually raged in his grey eyes had calmed. Surprisingly, those silver eyes seemed friendly and inviting. His eyes entranced her even as a smirk formed upon his lips.

"Thinking of me?" he asked cockily.

"Never," she replied, matching his tone perfectly. Her face softened. "I was just reminiscing."

"Me too," he said, smiling lightly. "This used to be my grandmother's garden. She would work out here every day. She was the one who taught me how to plant seeds, pull weeds, and help the plants flourish. She died almost a year ago."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. This is my memorial, my way of remembering her. Sometimes I feel… her spirit with me when I'm here."

Unsure of how to respond, she hesitantly reached out to place a hand on his shoulder. He sighed and allowed his head to drop slightly. A comfortable silence and understanding passed between them.

Slowly, he stood and offered her his hand. "Shall we go?" he inquired. She could only nod. He pulled her up carefully, and they resumed their tour of the grounds. The whole time, Draco was a step behind her, ready her catch her should she stumble from exhaustion or loss of balance.


	12. Chapter 12

Malfoy held onto the crook of her elbow as he led her around the gardens, Hermione watched him exhale a little, looking relieved and smiled to herself… "So it's flowers that make the Slytherin Prince happy", she thought stifling a giggle. They walked along a vertical stone path, with walls of enchanted silver-blue roses that formed an arched tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was what looked like a maze.

It was an ironically sunny day which in her slightly ambiguous circumstances she couldn't fully enjoy. Walking next to Malfoy without feeling the urge to repeatedly punch him was however quite…peaceful, Hermione was surprised at how comfortable she felt.

"This way Granger, honestly you could at least make the effort to stay awake"

"I am awake. I was only admiring your gardens" Hermione replied indignantly – the urge to punch him resurfaced.

"Ah yes, quite impressive eh, bet you don't quite share the same standard of living"

Malfoy smirked, cocking an eyebrow at her provocatively.

She fought back with some effort the temptation to retort, "that was what he wanted after all", she thought as she strode next to the tall blonde haired boy.

Malfoy led the way into the next section of the garden; a large courtyard with a fountain at the centre, bordered by hedges of dark indigo flowers shaped in a circular pattern. It looked like a warped fairy tale, the stereotypical pinks and purples replaced with dark blues and greens. It was somewhat entrancing, like a maze of Slytherin beauty – with a spiralling path around the fountain leading off into yet another acre of land, the maze, with rows of dark green hedges…

"This is where I often go to think" He said abruptly, looking straight ahead, his eyes carefully not portraying too much emotion. Hermione didn't quite know how to reply so chose to stay silent watching him.

They sat on the wall of the fountain, from which emerge two proud snakes that spouted water. Before them was the Malfoy manor, glaring at Hermione with a sense of foreboding… 'What am I doing here' she wanted to ask, but resumed to her better judgement – too soon, she would have to learn to trust him first.

Malfoy, she found was looking at her like he just heard what she thought. The silence between them was beginning to grow unnerving…

"Malfoy…"

Before she could finish they were off again, Malfoy striding ahead determined not to fall into a conversation with her. When she had offended him she didn't know, then she remembered this was Malfoy after all. He led her into the maze. Hermione found herself struggling to keep up with him, she tried to keep his blonde head within sight as they wormed their way in and out of the rich hedges.

"Malfoy! Could you please slow down!" Great. She thought. This is exactly what he wants, me to fall behind 'accidently' get lost and fall into the arms of the death eaters – brilliant. Hermione felt the pang in her side assert itself again causing her to crouch on the floor in pain. The blonde head disappeared, she was lone once again.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had stopped walking and turned around to check if the stubborn thing was following… "Where is she?" He thought. He looked to his left and right, looking for hazelnut curls. He couldn't see her. Panic rose in his chest. If he hadn't been so bloody wrapped up in his own thoughts…how could he be so careless! To leave her alone in the Malfoy manor was bad enough but like this, this was pure madness.

He started to retrace his steps breaking into a run, visualising in his head the worst.

Hermione was still on the floor, the pain paralysed her from moving. The once majestic towering flowers now looked sinister, as if they were condemning her to the ground. She pushed a brown ringlet from her face suppressing a cry of frustration. From around the corner of a hedge she could hear footsteps. Malfoy?

Malfoy kept running, he had to get to her before something happened. How far had he gone? He thought, as the winding paths began to all look the same. Who'd have thought that I would be running to save Granger, ha! The world really has changed.

The steps near to Hermione were gradually getting closer, and then they stopped. Something's wrong – she thought to herself. With as much strength as she could muster she hauled herself into the side of the hedge, in an attempt to hide from whatever was about to present itself. The pain in her side got worse and if it wasn't for the spontaneous thunder that erupted over head the screams would have given away her cover.

Malfoy jumped as the rain started to pour down, he squinted his silver eyes brushing a fringe of blonde hair away. "Granger..Hermione.." "Where the hell are you?"

Hermione heard him, he was close, but not as close as the footsteps that began to pick up again, slower this time but growing nearer. She knew she couldn't call out; she felt for her wand, grasping it with her right hand, the other was busy holding her body together.

Malfoy found where they previously were, he took a right turn. A few yards ahead of him he saw a figure move, too tall to be Hermione he realised. Father.

He crouched down before Lucius could sense him. Malfoy started to calculate possible plans of action. 1) Run? 2) Create a distraction 3)…There was no three. He knew his best bet was to try to distract his father, who seemed determined to make Granger's life misery.

"Father, if you're looking for the mudblood you won't find he hear, mother has secured her in the library a place where the dark lord new she was most comfortable" a believable lie, he thought, but not good enough to fool Lucius. The tall man turned with the trade mark smirk.

"Really boy? Because it has come to my attention that you are beginning to spend leisurely time with the thing, who you know is the dark lord's property. Now, as I saw you walking in the maze, suspiciously alone I thought I would pay a visit to see whether you had brought your little friend."

Hermione could hear the conversation, her heart was feverish. She looked around helplessly for some solution, with as little movement as possible. Hermione flicked through her mind like the pages of the many books she had studied, hoping for some sort of epiphany.

Malfoy held his father's gaze.

Back in the Malfoy manor, Narcissa Malfoy was searching for Lucius anxious that he may be elsewhere fulfilling some self received prophecy. Her suspicions were proven right when from a window of the top floor she could make out two silver heads that reflected the lightening. She searched for a third, where was the muggle born?...

From the maze was a flash of blue light. She knew she had to be quick, "Tituba!" she called to the house-elf frantically. The little bright eyed figure appeared. "Apparate immediately to Mr Malfoy, tell him I must receive his presence urgently!"

The little creature nodded and with a pop was gone.

Hermione's fear mounted as she heard curse after curse being hurled back and fourth between the two similar yet so different men. Amongst the violence she could make out a squeaky voice: "Misses Malfoy requires your presence immediately!" it piped up. Thank god, she thought. Her ears pricked for more information, her senses on edge.

"Oh really" Lucius snarled. Looking at Draco's soaking appearance in disgust he turned back to Tituba, "Fine, I shall return as she wishes." He spat holding the elf by its collar. He unfurled his black cloak, and with one last look of pure hatred towards Draco he was gone.

Malfoy breathed a sigh of relief, and then remembered, "Granger!" He hissed, "Where are you?"

"I'm here" Hermione cried allowing the pain to take over her body, her voice slightly muffled by the thundering rain.

Malfoy crept down to where Hermione was huddled, "Can you walk?" He said gently as he scooped up her fragile body, steadying her on the sodden ground.

"I-I'll try" Hermione managed to mutter, stepping on the ground briefly before letting out another scream. Malfoy was ready to catch her once again, holding her like a child he carried her though the thunder and lightening, back to an unreliable safety.H

-Hope you like it, sorry it's quite short and needs a lot of corrections, but please leave a review to let me know what you think x


	13. Chapter 13

Hermione awoke to the now familiar surroundings of Dra-Malfoy's bedroom. She brushed her hand down the side of her stomach and felt it to have a damp bloodied cloth rested on it. Strange, she thought – a poor muggle-like attempt to heal her. She lifted up the cloth to reveal what looked like a grotesque opened scar. She felt a hand push it back down, Malfoy. He looked at her nervously then resumed his position on a chair net to the bed staring ahead at the door.

"How did I?.." Hermione said and trailed off as she remembered the feud in the gardens, oh, she thought, that's how I got here.

"They took our wands, we're locked in. I tried my best to dress the wound but it's considerably difficult without magic." Malfoy muttered.

Hermione scanned the room, looking for something – he was right, the resources in this room were limited.

"Did you say we were locked in?"

"Yes. My father alerted Belatrix and together they shut us in my room. Don't worry we won't starve, Tituba will be sent to bring us food and no we can't apparate, not in your condition anyway."

"Oh it's only a scratch Malfoy, I think I'll live." Hermione huffed; when Malfoy didn't answer she turned to look at him. Only now did she take in his bedraggled appearance, he looked positively white, verging on translucence. She had got the 'scratch' from the crutiatus curse, it acted as a reminder every day of what she had been through. She wondered how Harry was getting along, and Ron oh Ron must be worried, but she couldn't send a letter not now anyway. Hermione thought about Harry and Dumbledoor, what they were doing seemed all a puzzle to her but she trusted them both and she hoped that they were safe.

Malfoy was the first to break the silence: "I'll get you out of hear you know."

Hermione lifted her head to look at him; he took her hands, "I will, I promise."

He flung himself back on the chair in frustration, Hermione reached for him.

Taking his hand she felt it was safe enough to risk some sleep. Malfoy kept his eyes on her as she fell into a deep sleep, "I will make us free Hermione, if it's the last thing I do."

Tituba brought them breakfast, which would have been nicer if they weren't both held captive.

Malfoy was restless, that Hermione could tell as he paced up and down and slammed his fist against the wall.

"Look Malfoy we are going to have to devise some sort of plan to get out or here." She said, grimacing as she got off the bed. "I'm sick and tired of being weak and helpless in situations, Harry is out risking his life to help us all, Ron...well I should be doing something too!"

"You're right." Malfoy answered.

"I...am?" A little off guard Hermione looked at him curiously, sometimes I forget he is the infamous Draco Malfoy, she thought.

"Accio broom! I don't know why I didn't think of this before, it's all too simple." Malfoy reached for his broom that hovered by the window.

"No, oh no absolutely not!" Hermione cried.

"Scared Granger?" Malfoy smirked. He hopped onto the broom and circled round her. "Don't you trust me?"

Did she trust him?..."Yes, it's just well surely we will be seen, your father isn't stupid he has probably secured the Manor with various different enchantments and well you-know-who could be watching us right this moment not to mention Belatrix who can most likely smell a muggle born a mile off and.." She was silenced by Malfoy who rested a finger on her lips causing her to blush unnecessarily.

"Just trust me."

I'm mad, truly mad, insane even Hermione thought to herself as she mounted the front of the broom. Malfoy locked his arms around her causing him to shiver a little, carefully placing his hands above her wound. She flinched a little at the movement as the pain jabbed her side.

He fixed his eyes determinedly on the grounds that bordered the manor, freedom… They pushed off gaining height rapidly.

Hermione squealed a little as they soared into the sky. Higher and faster they went, not looking back, never looking down. Bitterly cold air lashed at them, the clouds acting as shields, when he thought they were far enough away Malfoy steered the broom and they plummeted downwards.

"We're going to crash!" Hermione screamed shutting her eyes tightly against the biting air.

Malfoy held her tightly, "open your eyes."

Hermione took a sharp intake of breath as she saw they were free.


End file.
